


It's always better when you're by my side

by ThatsrightZoeyeyye



Series: NaNoWriMo 2019 (but i'm cheating a little bit) [2]
Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid, StarKid Productions RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, If you want to read oblivious dumbasses pine for 5k words, Jazzalil, Light Angst, Pining, i got u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 12:29:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19790917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatsrightZoeyeyye/pseuds/ThatsrightZoeyeyye
Summary: The first time her parents told her about soulmates, Zazzalil had just turned ten. It felt like when they told her Santa wasn't real, or when they told her about periods : finally, she was part of the grown-ups, she knew about things that only grown-ups knew about. Her seven-year-old cousin had been there, and the adults had told him not to listen, because he was too young. That meant Zazzalil was old enough, and that knowledge made her feel more powerful than ever.Of course, like when she learnt that Santa wasn't real, and when she learnt what periods were, the first thing she had done was tell Keeri. She told her how there was one person she was meant to love forever, and how everything she would write or draw on her skin would appear on her soulmate's skin. They were both delighted. They knew they shouldn't tell the others. The others weren't grown-ups. Even Jemilla.





	It's always better when you're by my side

The first time her parents told her about soulmates, Zazzalil had just turned ten. It felt like when they told her Santa wasn't real, or when they told her about periods : finally, she was part of the grown-ups, she knew about things that only grown-ups knew about. Her seven-year-old cousin had been there, and the adults had told him not to listen, because he was too young. That meant Zazzalil was old enough, and that knowledge made her feel more powerful than ever.

Of course, like when she learnt that Santa wasn't real, and when she learnt what periods were, the first thing she had done was tell Keeri. She told her how there was one person she was meant to love forever, and how everything she would write or draw on her skin would appear on her soulmate's skin. They were both delighted. They knew they shouldn't tell the others. The others weren't grown-ups. Even Jemilla.

The second thing she did was sit on her bed with her favorite pen (the ink sparkled), and think. She didn't know if her soulmate knew. She sat there for what seemed like hours, not knowing what to do. She didn't want to scare her future husband, didn't want him to hate her. Eventually, she settled on waiting. One day, she'd write a message, but not yet.

She waited, always unsure. Keeri had written messages, and she had never gotten an answer. Zazzalil was terrified the same would happen to her.

ooo

As she grew up, she barely talked about soulmates with her other friends.

She knew Tiblyn constantly had flowers drawn all over her body, and that not all of them were made by her. They hadn't exchanged a word, but the pink roses on her arms carried a message of their own.

Most people waited. She knew Jemilla was waiting too. They had talked about it once, when they were twelve, while waiting for the bus. Zazzalil kind of hated Jemilla. She hated how beautiful and fashionable and kind and organized and respected she was. But she understood her fear. They never talked about it again.

ooo

When she was thirteen, she realized she didn't want her soulmate to be a boy. It hit her hard, one day, when she saw two women holding hands in a restaurant. She knew gay people existed, but it had always been people she didn't know, attacks and gruesome murders on the news, far far away. But that day, she saw lesbians, and she realized that she could be one too. She realized that gay was a thing that _she_ could be.

It was a relief : she wouldn't have to marry a boy. It explained everything she thought was wrong about herself, and it opened a future brighter than anything she had imagined before. She spent hours on the internet that night, researching every bit of information possible. And yeah, she found things a thirteen-year-old girl didn't have to know, but she also found her peace.

ooo

When she was fifteen, Keeri told her she didn't want a soulmate. She knew why she had never gotten an answer, she had looked it up on the internet. She wasn't the only one and, reading other peoples' stories, she had understood herself a little better : she didn't want a soulmate, she didn't want to fall in love, she didn't want a relationship that wasn't platonic. She was aromantic and asexual. It had taken a while for her accept it, but she felt happier knowing. She was aromantic and asexual, and she trusted Zazzalil to be fine with that. Zazzalil was find with that.

ooo

When she was eighteen, Zazzalil graduated high-school, and went to college. She would study politics. That way, maybe she could change the world.

She lived in a rather small town, and all the schools were on the same campus. She and all her friends were there. Jemilla studied politics with her, Keeri studied dancing, Emberly studied cooking, Ducker studied theology, Tiblyn studied astronomy, Chorn studied linguistics, Schwoopsie studied acting and comedy, and nobody really knew what SB was there for.

They rented a big apartment, with ten rooms. The tenth one was for Molag, their landlady, an elderly woman with a great sense of humor, who had been the mayor of the town in “the good ol' days”. They immediately called the apartment the Cave. It might have had something to do with the poor lightning.

ooo

When they all came back to the Cave after the first day of class, exhausted, Emberly wasn't alone. She was accompanied by a guy from the painting school, Grant. They had tiny hearts drawn all over their left forearms in matching patterns. They were holding hands, giggling, drowning everyone in their overflowing happiness.

They had spent the entire day together, and were ready to go on for the rest of their lives. Zazzalil was happy for them, of course, they seemed to get along so well, but she couldn't help but be reminded of how her soulmate had never written anything.

That night, sitting cross legged on her bed, she hesitated, marker in hand. She didn't have her sparkly pen anymore, but it didn't really matter. After what felt like hours, her heart beating hard in her chest, she lifted her t-shirt and, just above her navel, in tiny letters, she wrote “hey”.

ooo

The next day, when her alarm rang, the first thing she did was look all over her body, searching for an answer. She soon realized, disappointed, that there wasn't any. The three letters she had written the night before stood above her navel, alone.

As she brushed a finger across the word, feeling lonelier than she ever had, a tear rolled down her cheek. Surely her soulmate would have noticed, in eight hours. And even if she didn't speak English, or didn't know its alphabet, she could still have answered, drawing words Zazzalil would have had to decipher. Anything would be better than this.

All of a sudden, she saw it disappearing, slowly, piece by piece. In less than a minute it was gone. She could imagine her soulmate frantically washing the ink off her skin, and she bit her lips to keep sobs from escaping.

For over eight years, she had waited, she didn't even know what for, terrified that she would ruin everything. And she had. She had taken her chance and failed. Her soulmate hated her, and she would be alone forever.

ooo

After ten minutes of crying, she stood up and grabbed some clothes, let her hair fall around her face, hiding it, and hoped that she wouldn't see anyone of her way to the bathroom.

But Jemilla was there, just out of the shower. She was wearing tight high-waisted jeans and a blue crop top, and her curls surrounded her face, beautiful. Her eyes were red too, and Zazzalil pretended not to notice. She didn't care about Jemilla, it wasn't any of her business.

ooo

It had been a month since Zazzalil had written the message to her soulmate, and she had never done it again. She didn't know what she was going to do. Emberly and Grant were happier than ever, and he stayed over at the Cave most of the time. He had become a part of the Tribe. Nobody knew how far they would go with that metaphor.

One Sunday morning she left her room to see SB sitting on the couch, chuckling as he drew penises on his arm and other ones appeared as an answer. Schwoopsie facepalmed for twenty minutes. Zazzalil closed the door again and went back to sleep. Tiblyn woke her up at the three in the afternoon.

Zazzalil was in a constant state of exhaustion. She tried not to get too affected by all this soulmate business, she had other things to do, but her mind kept drifting back to the mystery girl who didn't want her, and it _hurt_.

ooo

One sunny day in November, she decided to move on, to forget about her soulmate and live her own life. She joined the debate team and spent less time skulking in her room. It was hard at first, but she soon realized how much happier she was, and she woke up in the morning looking forward to knowing how the day was going to go.

With all that, she spent more time with Jemilla. Slowly, she saw sides of her she'd never paid attention to before. She saw how passionate she was, how much she cared about her friends, how much she cared about Zazzalil. She also saw how beautiful she looked in those high-waisted jeans, how her eyes sparkled when she talked, how mesmerizing her smile was.

She didn't know yet that her love for the girl had become more than platonic. It would take her longer than that.

ooo

“My soulmate doesn't care about me.”

It was a cold Friday evening, in the beginning of December. They were all sitting around in the living room, eating pizza and talking, when the subject had come up.

“What do you mean 'doesn't care about you'?” Emberly asked, confused. “Come on, Jemilla, you know that's not true.”

“They wrote a message once.” the older girl answered. “In all my life, I got one stupid message. I don't even think it can be called a message, it was one stupid word.”

She sighed loudly.

“But it doesn't matter, I don't need a soulmate” she continued. “I can fall in love with people, it doesn't matter whether we're “meant to be” or whatever. Like when Schwoopsie and I dated in high school. We had fun, it doesn't matter that we broke up and we're not gonna be together forever. Clark and Claire were nice too. I'm living my life, not waiting for someone who doesn't want me.”

“But did you ever write anything?” Tiblyn asked shyly. Jemilla shook her head.

“I figured they wouldn't want me to.”

Nobody said anything, but everyone thought the same thing.

ooo

Two days later, when she was changing into pajamas, Zazzalil saw red ink above her navel. At first, she thought she was bleeding, but she soon realized it was words, appearing letter by letter, in a beautiful handwriting.

Once her soulmate had finished writing, Zazzalil sat on her bed and breathed in, before looking at the message.

“I'm sorry,” it said. “I always thought you hated me because you never said anything, but I guess you only started hating me when I didn't answer your message.”

Zazzalil stared at the words, confused. She didn't think she hated her soulmate. She was hurt, and had given up on her, but a part of her still wanted a happy ending with her.

She lay on her bed, trying to come up with the right thing to answer. Before she could, she was asleep.

ooo

That night, she dreamt she met her soulmate. When she woke up, she couldn't remember her face, just short curly hair and flashes of a mesmerizing smile. She took her marker and sat up, her mind settled. She was going to give the girl a chance, it didn't matter if it didn't work out.

“Let's just start over” she wrote. “We'll pretend none of this happened.”

She took an other pen and hovered over her stomach for a few seconds, hesitating.

“Hello” she wrote, like nothing had ever happened.

She meant to get up, but there was already an answer.

“Hi. How are you today?” her soulmate had asked.

“I'm glad you acknowledged my existence.” Zazzalil answered.

“I'm glad I did too.”

Zazzalil searched for something to answer, but couldn't find anything. Instead, she asked “what time is it where you live?”

“6.48 am”

“Same! At least we live in the same time zone.”

The girl answered with a smiley face made of a colon and parenthesis. After a few seconds, she wrote something else.

“It also means I have to get up if I want to be in class in time.”

“We can talk later, right? You're not gonna disappear forever?” Zazzalil wrote, anxious.

“I won't. But I do have to erase all of this, I'm wearing a white t-shirt.”

“Okay”

A few seconds later, Zazzalil saw the words disappear. But this time, she smiled.

ooo

In the weeks that followed, they kept this up, writing on their stomachs. They didn't say much. They knew they were both eighteen, lived in the same country, studied politics. Most of the time, they just drew random things, played the Hangman Game with ridiculously long words. They never talked about love, about soulmates, about themselves, about an “us”.

ooo

In mid-January, the dance school organized a performance, and Keeri was a part of the lead trio. Zazzalil went all four evenings. Her friend's dancing was beautiful, and she realized she'd never seen her dance professionally before. The six months of dance school had truly done good : she controlled her entire body perfectly, gracious and strong, and threw her whole soul in the performance. It was fascinating.

On the last evening, Jemilla came to see it. Zazzalil didn't watch much of the dancing that night.

ooo

The next Thursday, when she saw Jemilla enter the Cave, removing her coat gracefully, throwing a smile to her friends as she made her way to the kitchen, Zazzalil couldn't help but stare at her beautiful smile, hypnotized by the way her deep blue shirt clung to her frame, by the sound of her hills on the cold tile floor, by her hand, delicately brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She was startled by Keeri's elbow in her ribs.

“You're staring.” her friend whispered.

Zazzalil turned a deep red, confused by her own behavior. Why would she stare at Jemilla? She was nice and all, but that wasn't a reason for her heart to beat this fast whenever she saw her, right? She turned to Keeri, who was looking at her with a smug smile spread on her face.

“I think Zazzy has a crush.”

“Shut up. I don't. What if she hears you? Fuck. I have to get out of here.”

She promptly got up, murmuring something about work to do. The others didn't really care. She only caught a glance of Jemilla's worried look, before dashing to her room. She thought she heard Keeri laugh.

ooo

Sitting on her bed, she wondered. She couldn't ignore it anymore : that ache in her chest couldn't be anything else.

It felt like betrayal, in a way. In the past few weeks, she had started to get along with her soulmate. She didn't know anything important about her, didn't know if they'd ever meet, didn't know if they'd really have a happy ending. They hadn't made any promises, but the universe had made one for them. Was she supposed to break it?

Jemilla didn't care about soulmates, she wouldn't mind that Zazzalil wasn't hers. She still had a chance.

She quickly chased those thoughts away. There was no way Jemilla would want to date her of all people. She had to get over it. They would never be together.

ooo

She tried to get over Jemilla. She really did.

But one day in February, when she saw her sitting a few tables away in the library, it hit her. She wanted Jemilla to be her soulmate. She didn't just want to be with her, she wanted to be The One, the person who was destined to make her happy. She wanted to be the reason for each of her smiles, the one who'd be with her forever.

Jemilla had rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, as usual. Zazzalil doodled on her arm, and looked at the other girl. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the drawing on her arm. Jemilla frowned, confused, and looked around her. Zazzalil pulled down the sleeves of her sweatshirt and stared at her book, hoping she wouldn't be caught. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the taller girl hurriedly put on her coat and gather her things, before leaving in a rush, head down.

Zazzalil stayed there, her eyes blurry as the sound of her heartbeat covered everything around. Jemilla was her soulmate. There was no other way random red loops had appeared on her arm in that exact moment.

Zazzalil found herself regretting. Jemilla wouldn't want her to be her soulmate. Sure, the mystery girl who was so good at the Hangman Game had acknowledged her existence, but now that Zazzalil knew that she and her roommate were the same person, she realized that there was never a chance that they would end up together. She was just being friendly, she didn't care about soulmates, she was living her own life.

A tear fell on Zazzalil's book, and she wiped her eyes furiously. She was tired of all of this. This hoping, trying to forget, hoping again and being disappointed over and over again.

That night, she stayed out late, to be sure she wouldn't have to see Jemilla.

ooo

Zazzalil knew soulmates didn't always work out. There were people who died young, people who had horrible divorces, people who never met. These people often found someone else.

Soulmates were overall a bother, she decided. History proved it : royal families never married their children to their soulmates unless it was convenient for the country's economy, which had only happened once, in France, in the XVth century (one of the most heart-warming love stories ever told, History teachers loved it). And look what happened to Romeo & Juliet! Being soulmates hadn't kept them alive.

She decided to forget. She never answered Jemilla's messages again, and didn't notice how sad she looked only the time. The drawings on her body got more impatient, spreading to her legs, her torso, her arms. Zazzalil stopped rolling up the sleeves of her hoodies, and hoped it would stop by the time the weather got too hot to wear jeans. She threw herself in her studies, furiously learning every bit of information she could. Her insomnia got worse, to the point where she was never seen without purple circles under her eyes and a cup of coffee.

ooo

Somewhere inside her, she knew she wouldn't be able to keep that up for long. She really understood when she woke up in the infirmary mid-March. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Jemilla, sitting on her bed, looking down at her hands, holding one of Zazzalil's. Her heartbeat picked up as she realized how soft the other girl's skin was. Jemilla noticed her tensing and looked up.

“What am I doing here?” Zazzalil mumbled.

“We were going to class and you were walking really fast, and at some point you slowed down and just fell down. I thought you'd tripped, but you were unconscious. I was really worried, and you wouldn't wake up. Someone called the nurse and I brought you here.”

“And you've been here all this time? Aren't you supposed to be in class?”

“I'm worried about you.” Jemilla murmured.

Zazzalil wished Jemilla didn't care. It just made it harder to get over her.

“Why do you care?” she asked in a small voice.

Jemilla looked down again, opened her mouth and closed it several times, trying to find something to say. She was still holding Zazzalil's hand, and the latter didn't know whether she wanted her to stay or go away. A part of her still hoped.

“You're my friend” Jemilla answered. She hesitated. “I would do the same for Tiblyn, or SB, or any of the others. Hell, even that Grant guy!”

“You'd skip class for Grant?”

Jemilla pursed her lips.

“I'd probably just call Emberly.”

The room stayed silent after that. Zazzalil thought it was awkward, but Jemilla probably didn't. She was her friend, and she'd do the same for Tiblyn or SB or any of the others. Maybe not for Grant, okay. That didn't make Zazzalil special.

ooo

April came around, and Zazzalil was covered with ink. She did her best to remove it, but every day it became harder. She was pretty sure all of this was bad for her skin. At first Jemilla had written words, questions, asked what had happened and what she had done wrong and how she could be forgiven. Then she had stopped, and for over a month she only drew random shapes. It was beautiful. But it hurt.

But one day, when she woke up, there were words. Black ink covered her body, but there was a small patch of skin that was untouched. In the middle, just above her navel, in red ink, there were three lonely words.

“Are you dead”

And Zazzalil thought she understood how Jemilla had felt. If she didn't care about soulmates, like she claimed, there was no reason why she would care that Zazzalil had stopped answering. She would have moved on. But maybe she had gotten attached to the mystery girl who was so bad at the Hangman Game, and there was only was way she could explain her silence.

So Zazzalil gave up. She took her marker, abandoned for so long on her nightstand, and, in tiny letters, she wrote “no”. She didn't know where she was going to go with this. Didn't know whether she should tell Jemilla that she was her soulmate, that she loved her.

ooo

She didn't have much time to think about it. Caught up in her thoughts, she forgot to wear a sweatshirt when she headed to the bathroom. At first, she didn't understand why Jemilla stopped for a second, eyes wide, when she saw her, or why she ran to her room and slammed the door behind herself. It was only when she was in front of the mirror that she saw her arms, covered with delicate swirls that Jemilla couldn't have not recognized.

ooo

She cried in the shower. She thought it was pathetic, that surely she would be better than that, but Jemilla knew she was her soulmate, and she would probably avoid talking to her forever. Zazzalil washed off the drawings, like every day. She left the message, though.

ooo

She didn't know whether she was the one avoiding Jemilla, or whether Jemilla was the one avoiding her. She felt bad about it. They had really started to get along during the course of the year, and all of that soulmates thing had ruined it. She didn't know what to do. She knew Jemilla didn't like her back, otherwise she would have said something. There was no way she hadn't noticed that Zazzalil liked her, it was painfully obvious.

ooo

Their last messages stayed on their stomachs for three days. None of them erased it. It was like a question waiting to be answered.

Jemilla made the next move. Three days after the incident, when Zazzalil woke up, the previous messages had been erased, replaced by tiny letters, conveying shyness, hesitation, fear.

“Why do you hate me?”

ooo

In took two more days for Zazzalil to think over everything that had happened since the beginning of the school year. She had never thought that Jemilla would think that she hated her. Come to think of it, it sounded obvious now : she had never sent a single message in eighteen years and, after a few months of getting along, had suddenly stopped acknowledging her existence. She also realized that, in trying to hide her enormous crush, she had probably acted too distant to be friendly.

Yeah, it made sense. She kind of hated herself for it.

ooo

The end of those two days was a Wednesday. All the politics students had decided to get lunch together to celebrate the early retirement of a particularly incompetent teacher, who had been replaced by an energetic middle-aged lady, who, in merely three hours, had won everyone's hearts.

Jemilla and Zazzalil ended up at opposite sides of the table, stealing glances at each other, never meeting each other's eyes. Zazzalil's heart was beating fast. She knew what she had to do. It didn't matter whether Jemilla loved her or not, or if they'd end up together like the universe wanted. She just needed to talk to her, to get back to how things were before she ruined everything, to at least be her friend.

ooo

After lunch, they all made their way back to the campus. Zazzalil breathed in, trying to control her heartbeat, and stopped Jemilla before they entered the classroom.

“Hi” she said, offering a shy smile.

Jemilla seemed tired, she noticed. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulder were slumped, which didn't sound like a thing Jemilla's shoulders would be. She was Jemilla, after all, and Jemilla was always confident and strong and bold.

“Hi” she answered, her voice so quiet that Zazzalil almost couldn't hear. “I guess you know it's me.”

Zazzalil nodded. She hadn't really thought of a what to say. In her head, Jemilla either pushed her away forever or carried her away into the sunset. She did know that the reality would be more of a middle ground, but she had no idea what to do. Jemilla seemed to sense her brain overheating, because she spoke again.

“Listen, Zazzalil, I know you don't care about soulmates, and I know you don't like me. Can we just try to stay friends? The others are going to ask questions, and I really don't want to talk about it with them.”

They were cut by the teacher asking everyone to take their seats. The only free chairs were at opposite ends of the room. Zazzalil didn't know what to do with this new information. Jemilla thought that _she_ didn't care, that _she_ didn't like her. Did that mean that Jemilla cared? That Jemilla liked her? It couldn't be possible, it was just wishful thinking.

At least they would be friends. It was more than enough.

ooo

In the next week, they started talking again. They smiled at each other too, started working together again. It was nice, Zazzalil thought. Maybe this was how she could get rid of that persistent ache in her chest, that burning in her veins. Wallowing in self pity hadn't worked.

Friendship didn't work either. It was harder, really, talking to her every day and being reminded that their relationship would only ever be platonic.

None of them had washed the last message off of their stomachs. It was still there, looking pale, but the marker was tough, and the ink stayed. Zazzalil realized that Jemilla was probably still waiting for an answer.

ooo

One day, while they were studying in the library, Zazzalil raised her head.

“You know, I don't hate you.” she whispered.

“You don't?” Jemilla asked, frowning. “Then why-”

“I thought you were the one who hated me.” Zazzalil cut her before the other girl could list everything she had done wrong. “I knew you didn't care about soulmates. I know you still don't. I didn't want to make things weird.”

None of them said anything for a while. The silence was excruciating, but they both knew that it was the only things separating them from something else, something that would change their friendship, for better or for worse.

“I do care.” Jemilla finally murmured, looking down, like she was afraid to meet Zazzalil's eyes.

“I do too.” she answered, terrified of what might happen next. She breathed in, trying to gather her courage.

“And I actually really like you.” she finally said in a small voice.

She raised her head to see Jemilla looking up too. They locked eyes. Both stopped breathing. For a few seconds that felt like hours, they just looked at each other, searching for a confirmation in each other's eyes.

“I really like you too.” Jemilla breathed out, a shy smile spreading on her face. Zazzalil smiled too, and they stayed silent. They continued working.

ooo

The library closed at eight, like every day, and they gathered their things. The walk back to the Cave was silent. It was already dark out, and they walked slowly, reveling in the cool evening wind.

“I'm sorry I made you think I hated you.” Zazzalil whispered.

“I'm sorry _I_ made _you_ think that _I_ hated you.” Jemilla answered.

Their hands brushed, maybe not as accidentally as they wanted it to seem, and they linked their fingers, looking straight ahead, not daring to lock eyes again just yet. It felt weird, but it felt good.

ooo

The next day, in class, they were separated again. They drew on their hands, random shapes, nothing in particular, just to be reminded of each other's presence. A heart appeared in the middle of Zazzalil's palm, and her own heart fluttered as a smile made its way on her face. She grabbed a pink highlighter and colored it. From the other side of the room, she could see the corner of Jemilla mouth shoot up.

ooo

They decided to get lunch alone, just the two of them. Nobody really noticed.

They sat on a table outside, in the shy April sun, with their cheap college cafeteria food. They talked, trying to get to know each other better, to cut through the layer of awkwardness that still surrounded them.

Zazzalil found herself relaxing in Jemilla's presence. She felt freer than ever before, and her friend seemed to feel the same. They still hadn't made any promises. They were both too afraid to ask, but they were building up the nerve.

ooo

The library was closed that day, so they studied in Jemilla's room instead. It was small - they couldn't afford a bigger place – but it was cosy. It was organized : everything, from her clothes to her school supplies, was sorted by color. It was neat, clean, it smelled like flowers. Zazzalil wanted to stay there forever.

The desk was small, and they could barely fit both of their chairs. Their shoulders brushed at every movement, they could hear each other's breathing and smell each other's shampoo. Zazzalil suddenly remembered how much she loved Jemilla, and she looked up to admire how beautiful she looked when she was concentrating, absentmindedly biting her lower lip, brushing a strand of hair behind her ears every few minutes.

Feeling watched, Jemilla raised her head to see Zazzalil looking at her. They stared into each other's eyes, blushing, for what seemed like hours. Zazzalil was pretty sure she never wanted it to end. Maybe that was her cue to make a move, to do something. Jemilla parted her lips just slightly, and the other girl's eyes followed. When she looked up, their faces were closer, barely inches apart.

Zazzalil breathed in, her eyes flickered to Jemilla's lips once more, and she closed the distance between them.

They kissed desperately, like it was the only thing keeping them alive. Jemilla hands immediately shot up to Zazzalil's hair, keeping her close. They only pulled apart for a brief second, to catch their breath, before kissing again. Zazzalil was almost on Jemilla's lap. They smiled through the kiss, it was like the answer to a question they'd never dared to ask. It was a promise, both of them knew that.

Emberly soon notified her roommates that dinner was ready. They pulled apart and smiled, resting their foreheads together.

“So... Wanna be my girlfriend?” Jemilla asked shyly.

“Only if you'll be mine.” Zazzalil whispered.

They smiled again and stood up, trying to rearrange their hair and clothes before leaving the room, so the others wouldn't ask questions. It wasn't much help : Keeri saw the drawing on their arms, the smile on their faces, and the blush on their cheeks. She grinned.

ooo

When she was twenty-three, Zazzalil frowned as Jemilla got down on one knee. She ran off to their bedroom. Jemilla was confused, terrified, desperate, but soon she saw her girlfriend come back with a ring she was hiding in her nightstand.

“You beat me to it, it's not fair.” Zazzalil said as she admired the beautiful ring on her finger.

“What can I say, I've always been better than you.” her fiancé answered, looking at hers.

ooo

When she was twenty-four, they got married. The ceremony was beautiful. They didn't regret too much having left the organization to Ducker.

ooo

When she was thirty-seven, she sat down on her daughter's bed and told her about soulmates. She told her not to wait for too long.

ooo

When she was fifty-eight, she asked Jemilla to dance with her at their daughter's wedding. They still couldn't waltz correctly, even after all these years. Keeri had stopped trying, she had found better students, at the renowned academy where she taught classical dancing. Zazzalil and Jemilla stomped on each other's feet many times, but didn't care, they had fun. They were in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a Soulmate AU for a while, and I wanted to write 2k or something. But now it's 5k? No regrets.  
> I hope you liked it. Writing it was painful, they are so fucking dumb. I still had fun.  
> Tell me what you think :)


End file.
